Winter has been hard on the ladies of the coop. Their prodigious output of Summer and Fall, a glorious half dozen brown, blue and olive green eggs daily, has dwindled to one or two per week. Granted, it’s been bitterly cold. And granted, they had to move quarters just as Winter began in earnest to a shed much better equipped to keep them warmer and safer. Still, I was beginning to get rather resentful of all the work they required for absolutely no output.
Roscoe, our very vocal rooster, is up before the sun even hints at rising (another source of petty resentment, normal roosters crow at sunrise I believe). So, by the time I had made my way over to the coop at six forty five yesterday morning, he had been up and crowing for a good long time. Perhaps this is why he looked so ornery when I first stepped into the coop:
Then, I spied these two beauties on the windowsill:
TWO eggs, before the day has even really begun! Gone were all my resentments, replaced instead with forgiveness and hope. We are a third of the way through winter, and my girls seem ready to be bountiful again.